Weep, Little Lion Man, You're Not As Brave As You Were At The Start
by alaskanbirdfriend
Summary: Nick doesn't flip out on the plane to Vienna and he actually gets there. Bad news is, this means the Royals have him. And they want an Endezeichen Grimm in their power. A little bit of training goes a long way. Or torture. Whichever word is preferred.
1. Chapter 1

Eric stands next to the Grimm, eyes roaming over the paralyzed body. He sighs, crossing his arms as he leans over the metal coffin.

"Could somebody close his eyes for me? It's really quiet creeping me out."

"Of course, your highness." Someone mumbles and a hand from the right reaches towards the Grimm's face, pushing the eyelids shut with two fingers. Eric stands straight again, grinning.

"Thank you, Deacon. That is your name, right?"

Deacon nods mutely, linking his fingers together in front of him.

Eric places a firm hand on Deacon's shoulder, leading them out of the shadow of the plane's wing. The blistering sun beats down on the back of their necks and they both squint in the bright light.

"Do you know what we're doing here, Deacon?"

Deacon opens his mouth, about to answer. Eric waves a hand, dismissive. "No, no. That's obviously a rhetorical question. We're making history, Deacon."

Eric smirks, stopping and looking back toward the place where the Grimm lay.

"History that we will remember very, very well."

* * *

Eric is in a room built from dark mahogany walls, decorated with paintings and furniture worth millions of dollars. _Of course, he could buy five times that with the money he has._

He sits in a chair, the length of a long dining table stretching out in front of him while he sifts through random letters. Most of them are from spies. They whisper about _an attack,_ and _there was a bomb in your car, your highness,_ and _we don't know who it is._

 _It's Sean Renard,_ Eric wants to sneer. But there is no proof to be found.

He is glad he chose to take a different car.

Eric snarls, throwing all the envelopes to the ground. _I have to catch the_ _ **bastard**_ _who wants me dead._ His suit is disheveled as he runs his fingers through his mess of hair, getting up and pacing back and forth next to the table.

And on it, there lies a Grimm.

 _They had to wait when the most violent stage began, of course. Before that, they wouldn't have been able to administer the antidote._

 _The Grimm had been hard to subdue. Eric had sent fifteen Hundjäger into the room. Only two had come out alive. Both were at death's door._

 _The first was gone within an hour. The second…well, he'd exist._

 _To say he would_ _ **live**_ _would be an overstatement._

 _But the Grimm was out cold, and so they had done their duty. Their families were given money._

A woman, with long brown hair and sharp green eyes, struts into the room, clutching a white purse to her chest.

Eric stops pacing and faces her, raising his eyebrows. "You have what I need, Hexenbiest?"

She sneers, walking over to the corner of the table and placing her bag down. She tilts her chin up at the body in disdain.

"My name is Velda. And of course I do, _your highness_. I'm getting paid, aren't I?"

It's the one and only time Eric rolls his eyes at the title.

"Just do it, woman."

Velda smirks, unzipping her purse and delicately taking out an enormous syringe.

 _A Piqure-Gigantesque. Three vials, all administered at the same time._

She lifts it up to eye level, scanning the colored liquid inside. Making sure everything is in order.

 _Wouldn't want to piss of the royal family._

Eric watches her, waiting. He would say he is wary, but he is the _prince_. He isn't scared of anything.

She walks over to the side of the table and moves the Grimm's shirt away from his stomach. He almost looks peaceful, gentle.

 _Except for the deep, three-claw wound stretching from the top right side of his neck to his shoulder. Crimson red drips from it, as well as other drops of blood, splattered all over his clothing._

 _Some of that blood is not his._

Velda sticks the needle into the Grimm's abdomen and pushes down on the plunger. The injection liquid goes in and she quickly removes it and steps back, as if waiting for something to happen. Nothing does.

The Grimm stays unconscious, with slow breathing and relaxed features. _And covered in wounds and blood._

Eric raises his eyebrows and rolls his shoulders, turning to look at Velda. She holds the _Piqure-Gigantesque_ lightly in her grasp, and for once, her eyes flick nervously back and forth between Eric and the body.

"Well, you've done your job. We'll make sure you get paid, _Velda._ "

Her eyes narrow at his sneering words, but she snatches her bag and stuffs the syringe inside, allowing him to take her by the shoulder and drag her through the doorway of the room. She is led away by two men in suits, one carrying a briefcase full of cash.

 _Or is it a bomb? Either way, he will probably never see her again._

Eric nods approvingly at that, then reaches into his back pocket for his cell phone. He dials a number and presses speaker, holding it up to his mouth. A deep, growling male voice answers.

"Prince Eric. How nice to speak to you again."

Eric grins, sliding his other hand into his jacket pocket. "I can say the same. I'd like you to get over here and bring the Grimm down below. Restrain him."

A pause. "No, don't worry. He's unconscious. You don't need the Mauvais Dentes. Goodbye."

* * *

Nick wakes slowly, head hanging and blinking the crust out of his eyes. His ankles are tied to the legs of a metal chair and his wrists are bound with cuffs to the arms of it.

"What…?" His voice croaks out, head twisting around as he tries to get a good look at his surroundings. Water drips down from the stone ceiling, and puddles have formed everywhere on the concrete floor. Iron walls form a box, caging him in.

He suddenly winces, feeling the shredded, bloody wound on his neck stretch and send a jolt of pain throughout his body. _How the hell did that happen? Where is he?_

Everything is shadowed, with a single flickering light placed above him, illuminating everything within the radius of a yard.

Footsteps echo towards him through a darkened doorway, followed by shined black shoes. A face with curly brown hair and an evil glint in his eye that Nick recognizes steps into the light.

"You're Sean's brother."

The man nods, mouth twisting up into a smile. "I am. So glad to see you've got that right. My name is Eric. Although you probably knew that as well."

Nick squints up at Eric in faint confusion. _Exhaustion makes his mind fuzzy._

"Where…where am I? How did I get here?" _He supposes he should be panicking._

Eric claps his hands together. "Well, you see, my dear Grimm, you are in Vienna."

 _ **This**_ _is where he starts to panic._

The blood drains out of Nick's face as his eyes widen, searching back in his memories for answers. Nothing he remembers helps. _He was in a storage container, he saw his photo on a passport with the wrong name, and then everything went black._

" _ **What?**_ "

"Yes, what a wonderful place, don't you think? I do love it here."

Nick looks around wildly, eyes scanning the metal walls surrounding him. Eric ignores his frantic movements, instead choosing to pace around Nick in circles. His shoes make ominous clicking sounds against the floor.

"As for your other question…I don't suppose you remember anything about the _Cracher-Mortel_ , do you? Really, quite a fun man. I did enjoy his company."

Nick swallows, wrists bending as they strain against the metal cuffs wrapped around them.

 _He now knows_ _ **exactly**_ _what happened to him._

"Let me go." He sounds hoarse.

Eric tilts his face up at the ceiling, crinkling his expression. He looks back at Nick, a fake apologetic smile etched onto his expression.

 _It looks ugly,_ Nick thinks. And then Eric replies,

"Mmm…nope. I think we're going to keep you for just a while longer. Also, I have a funny question,"

Eric leans into Nick's face with a grin, arms crossed.

"Have you ever heard of an Endezeichen Grimm?"

Nick's barely concealed shock is enough of an answer. Eric stands straight once again, sighing.

"Don't you think it'd be nice to have one working for the Royal Families?"

Nick says nothing, leaning back uncomfortably. His only giveaway is narrowed eyes and a tense posture. _He doesn't know what he will do if he speaks. Throw up, maybe?_

Eric accepts his silence. "Personally, I think an Endezeichen Grimm would be _wonderful_. Of course, I don't have one, but what I _do_ have is a Grimm…and well, a little training can go a long way." He shrugs, dismissive. "Or torture. Whatever you wish to call it."

Nick suddenly wishes he never got into this Wesen business, suddenly wishes he ran away when he had the chance. _Too late for that now._

Eric turns to leave, then swings back around to face Nick. "I mean, you could say yes with your own willpower, and this would go a lot smoother."

This time Nick looks Eric in the eye and sneers. "Never."

 _He can only hope everyone he loves is safe._

Eric looks disappointed as he sighs, walking towards the doorway of the prison cell.

"Suit yourself." His head dips into the hallway, calling out. "Bring it in!"

A tall, thin man with a blackened gaze walks into the prison cell without even a whisper of sound. _Like a shadow._ Along with him comes with a rack of weapons Nick can't name. The man leaves, as quiet as he was before.

Nick hears Eric laugh in the darkness, menacing. Eric steps forward, rolling up his sleeves and twirling a knife in his hand with grace.

"Well, just tell me when you agree, my dear Grimm. We're going to have so much _fun_."

The solid iron door shuts with a clang _._

 _The only one to hear his screams is the prince._


	2. Chapter 2

Sean Renard sits in front of a TV, head in his hands. _He failed._

A female voice reports the news: _A bomb exploded this earlier this evening in a car meant for Prince Eric. No one was killed, although three have been severely injured. Luckily, a different vehicle was taken, saving his life. We will be searching for the identity of who is responsible for this act._

Sean turns off the television after that. He doesn't think he can't take it anymore.

 _He failed, he failed, he failed, and now Nick is trapped in Austria with his brother._

 _Who knows what they are doing to him. Who knows if they have the key._

He gets up from the couch, sighing and walking out to the balcony. It's night time now, and he remembers when he had a dream of ruling them all. _They waved his flag, cheering his name._

Sean turns away, eyes closed. _They do not cheer now. They shouldn't. Everything has gone to hell._

He reaches into his pocket for his phone and dials Hank's number, holding it up to his ear.

Hank answers. _It's nearly midnight. Hank shouldn't be up. Then again, Sean isn't either. They all can't sleep._ "Hey, Captain."

"Hank." His voice sounds tired. Weary.

"What happened?" Hank sounds like he almost doesn't want to know. _Sean wishes he could erase what he knows from his mind._

He sighs into the speaker, listening to the crackling noise as he looks around at the cityscape surrounding him.

"It's Nick. He's arrived in Vienna. My brother has him." Sean hears Hank swallow.

"Okay. Well then," A sigh. _It sounds painful._ "Let's get to the spice shop. I'll call everyone else."

Sean nods. "I'll be there in ten."

The phone's screen goes dark as he turns it off.

 _Dark as the night, dark as a prison cell, dark as a Grimm's eyes._

* * *

"Oh my God, _**what?!**_ " Monroe yells in shock, hands clutching at his head and pacing back and forth. Rosalee stands behind him with crossed arms, worrying at her lip.

Sean nods distractedly from where he sits, watching them on the stool in front of the counter.

"Yes, that was me. But it's not important right now. We need to get Nick back."

Monroe wears horrified expression when he turns to the Captain. "I _agree,_ but _**seriously?!**_ You're the one that bombed the car?!"

Sean looks at Monroe strangely before getting up and taking his jacket off to place it on the stool. He crosses his arms.

"Yes. Politics is dramatic, and I wanted for payback for what happened here. Now, we know Nick is in Austria–"

A second later, the bells hanging on the spice shop door jingle.

Hank and Juliette walk in. Well, Hank walks. Juliette runs, throwing off her coat onto a nearby table and dashing over to where everyone else stands in a circle.

"Hank told me something about Nick. What happened? Can we get him back–?"

Hank interrupts her panicked rambling as he steps forward, joining them.

"The Captain said Nick arrived in Vienna with his brother."

Juliette freezes, fists clenched and teeth gritted. She turns to Sean, ignoring everyone else. _For a moment, she's almost wesen herself. All fury, all vengeance. She just needs a Hexenbiest woge to go with it._ Sean almost snorts at the thought before he hears Juliette talk.

"This is all your family's fault. I swear to God if you don't get him back…" She hisses, eyes narrowed, stepping towards Sean. He can't bear to look at her.

 _It's all his fault. He should have just given his brother the key, or even better, never involved himself at all and never told his family a Grimm had come to town._

Monroe walks forward and holds out his arms in a separating gesture, pressing Juliette back gently.

"Okay, okay, we're not here to argue." She shoots Monroe a murderous look. He steps back, hands up in defense.

"Hey, I'm not saying it's not their fault! It's just that we're _here_ to get Nick back."

Juliette relaxes slightly, fists loosening as she sighs, still glaring at Sean. He watches her with guilt, then speaks.

"They might've have gotten to the key. That's one of their biggest priorities."

This time, Rosalee brightens, shaking her head and running to the back room. Everyone except Monroe and Juliette frown in confusion, following her.

Rosalee pulls up a red rug and lifts up a floorboard. Underneath, there lies passports, papers, and finally–

 _The key._

There's a collective sigh in relief. Rosalee places it carefully back down into the hole and covers it up. She stands, turning with a small worried smile. "Nick gave it to me to hide before he…left."

 _She doesn't want to say 'before he was captured'._

Juliette wants to ask what that key was, why did he need to hide it, _why the hell do the Royals want it,_ but she can't. They have to get Nick back.

"Well, that's a bonus. But if we have the key, that probably means they know Nick doesn't. Then why do they still have him?" Sean mumbles, mostly to himself, as he looks at the ground, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

It causes the rest of them to stand in silence, horrified. _That's the question, isn't it? Why_ _ **do**_ _they still have him? Is their goal not only the key?_

Monroe growls, placing his arm around Rosalee's shoulder.

 _Whether it's a human or a Blutbad growl, nobody knows. Either one is disconcerting._

"I don't care whether their goal is the key or Nick or both, I'm going after him to get him back."

Rosalee looks up at him, smiling, and doesn't even think twice about it. "I will too. I'm going."

Juliette nods huffily. "I'm going along as well." She looks around, eyes landing on the Captain with suspiciously. "Don't try and stop me."

He sighs. "I won't. Hank, you go with them, and I'll stay here."

Hank looks at the Captain in bewilderment. "You're not going?"

Sean shakes his head, pursing his lips. "I can't. If both of you disappear, along with me, that's going to look strange. And besides, I have to lead the precinct."

Rosalee exhales, scanning everyone with a nervous gaze. "Well, then. We'd better get ready."

Sean flashes a grim smile and walks back into the main room to grab his coat. Before he leaves with Hank, he turns to the rest of them, pausing. Then he speaks.

"When you get there…make sure my brother doesn't catch you."

He says nothing more when he disappears out the door, but they can hear the clear warning in his words.

 _Don't let him catch you, because you'll never escape alive._

 _And if he does let you live, you'll never be the same again._


	3. Chapter 3

Nick coughs, then spits something red onto the concrete floor. He feels around the inside of his mouth; he can taste iron, but there aren't any loose teeth from when he was punched. That's a bonus. And the claw wound on his neck is slowly, but surely, healing after a day of silence. _Still,_ _the quiet unnerves him._

 _He can only hope there is going to be no more agony. Unlikely._

His head drops to his chest, hanging in exhaustion. His hand twitches and he remembers, _oh, yeah, several of the bones in his fingers are snapped as well._ Blood slowly _drip, drip, drips_ its way out of his nose. He thinks it's broken. There's more blood in his hair, too. _He probably looks like crap._

His sleep schedule is completely messed up. The light goes on during torture, and when he's not screaming, he's sitting in the dark, alone. Isolated. _He hears it causes physiological damage in prison. Is he okay? Nick doesn't know._

 _At least his mind hasn't shattered._

 _Yet._

And Nick slowly drifts into sleep _._

* * *

 _He dreams of Grimms, watching as they slaughter men, women, and children, all without a second thought. Wesen blood splatters onto their skull-like masks, and still, they do not flinch._

 _They stop, removing the masks and turning, staring at him with dark, black eyes._

 _The Endezeichen Grimms wear his face._

* * *

Nick wakes with a gasp. The light flicks on.

"Just on time, I see." A voice says loftily, and he looks up, weary.

Eric walks in, with rolled up sleeves and dragging behind him another metal chair that screeches against the floor. He wears a sickening smirk with such pride that it twists Nick's stomach into knots.

The chair comes to a stop and Eric sits, fingers knitting together as he leans forward and shakes his head with a sigh. "You know, it would be so much easier if you agreed."

Nick glares, his lip curling up in a sneer. _He still tastes blood._ "I'm never going to help you."

Eric tilts his head with a disappointed purse of his lips.

"Well, I'll let you suffer, then. Such a shame."

He gets up with a sigh and opens the door, reaching for something on the side. _Nick can see the light of day and it's so close he could touch it–_

The door shuts once again, and Eric is carrying a tray full of food. It's a grilled steak with green beans on the side and a glass of water. Nick's only thought is, _what the hell?_

Eric sees his expression as he places everything down on the ground, sitting once again.

"Well, we wouldn't want you to die, would we? You are quite valuable. Just need a bit of training." _Nick wishes he would stop calling it that._

Eric shifts in his chair, placing his elbow on the armrest and chin on his palm.

"You know, it'd be so much nicer if you had the key."

Nick feels himself grin. _Is there blood on his teeth? It doesn't matter. He's glad he had Rosalee hide the key._

Eric's eyes narrow as he glares, teeth grinding together in fury.

"Yes, it was very disappointing when we found out. My father was _quite_ upset."

They sit in silence for a moment. Then Eric shrugs, dismissive.

"It doesn't matter. It's in the past. We only have the future ahead of us." He stands up, looking around. "Well, enjoy your _cheap_ food." _What does he mean, cheap? It's steak._ The Prince turns to the door, then hesitates.

"Oh, right. You need your hands to eat. Hold on."

He walks towards Nick, whose hands are still bound down to the armrests of the chair, and pulls something shiny from his pocket. _Wait, no, it's more than one. They're daggers, engraved with words he can't read._

Eric flips them in his hands, pauses, then smiles. The blades slam down into the back of Nick's hands.

Nick lets out a pain-filled grunt. _He's had worse, in the past few days. He can hold in a scream._ He closes his eyes as he feels the blood run down the sides of his hands, dripping onto the floor. The sound it makes as it falls to the ground is far too loud. It's a repetitive thud, making his ears ache.

 _It seems his magic hearing has kicked in from all this pain. How helpful. Just what he needs._

Nick's eyes are shut tight as he tries to level his breathing through the agony. The metal clasps around his wrists lift up. _What a nice use for knives. Restraints._

"There we go! Oh, and don't worry about infections. Or bleeding to death, for that matter. The knives have that _all_ taken care of."

The daggers are pulled out of his flesh, and only a trickle of blood leaves the wounds.

 _They still hurt like hell, though. Every movement of his palms makes him want to whimper._

 _But it seems the Prince is right._

Eric leaves the room with a smirk, bloodied blades in hand. The chair is left behind.

 _Nick's only company is…a piece of furniture. Best day of his life._

Nick nearly throws up from pain when he stretches his fingers out and picks up the plate to place it in his lap. _His hands_ _shake the entire time._ But he gets the food into his mouth.

 _The lights shut off._

 _And he is, once again, in darkness._

* * *

Adalind is quietly reading a book on her bed when she hears the door creak open. She nearly pulls out a knife, ready to kill, until Eric walks in. His hands are clasped behind him and he wears a smile.

 _It doesn't reach his eyes. It looks fake,_ she thinks, then hesitates. _No, I'm just imagining things._

She puts down her book, _Different Seasons, by Stephen King,_ and grins, holding out her arms. He welcomes them, stepping into her embrace, then moves back to look at her.

"How are _you_ doing, my dear Adalind?" He purrs, eyes dancing with delight, his gaze roaming up and down her body, hands placed on her waist.

She smirks. "I'm doing _very_ well, thank you. How have you been?"

Eric steps closer, lifting a hand and running it through her hair. "Well, I'd like to say thank you for those knives you gave me. Quite _useful_." The glee is prominent in his voice.

She raises her eyebrows. "Oh? What for?"

 _She's surprised at his excitement. When he told her that he needed specially designed knives to present to others, she'd expect it to be boring. But no, he sounds thrilled._

"Well, nothing really. Someone else decided they wanted one for themselves and _accidentally_ demonstrated. Not a lot of blood, as I asked of you, and I'm pleased about that. Still, I'm very glad I was nowhere near it. It's so very _irritating_ to clean up, you know?" He sighs, exasperated.

Adalind hums in agreement. "Yes, I definitely know." _Not just because she was formerly a Hexenbiest._

He moves backward with a content expression and reaches into his pocket. Inside, there are the two knives she carved into. _She may not be wesen anymore, but runes have magic that works well enough._

Eric places them gently into her palms. "You may have them back, as they _are_ yours. But I do have a question…"

She nods, eyes glancing down at his shirt for a second. Spots of bright red catch her eye.

"Of course. If you need them again, you can have them."

He claps his hands together, grinning. "Excellent!"

His phone buzzes, and as he picks it up, a frown starts to form on his face.

"And…that is my father. He wants to talk. Of course." He looks back up at her.

"I'm _terribly_ sorry, Adalind. But it seems I must take my leave."

Eric stands there for a second, then turns toward the doorway with an annoyed sigh, walking away. Adalind's arms feel empty.

 _Wait,_ she thinks. _Hold on. Something…something feels off._

She sifts through her memories of the past few minutes.

 _Spots of red on his shirt. But didn't he say that he hadn't gotten near any blood?_

 _It doesn't make sense._

 _What isn't he telling her?_


	4. Chapter 4

Juliette sits in a plane seat, fingers knitted closely together as she stares nervously out the window. The bottom of her jacket is crumpled up in her lap, no thought given when she threw it on and ran to the airport.

 _Nick is gone, Nick is gone, Nick is gone,_ are Juliette's only thoughts.

Monroe and Rosalee sit next to her, with Rosalee on her right and Monroe near the aisle.

Hank sits uncomfortably behind her, wedged in between the wall of the plane and a man who looks more like a hunk of muscle than anything. The man has some sort of strange bag in his lap, with a weird rope-like thing sticking out of it. Hank is looking more and more awkward.

She swallows as everything around her begins to rumble and the pilot mumbles into the loudspeaker: _we will begin our flight to Vienna, thank you for taking–_

She zones out after that, questions running through her mind a million miles per hour.

 _Is Nick going to be okay? Will they find him? Where will he be?_

She's been avoiding her worst thought, even as it constantly pops into her head, ripping her other thoughts to shreds, leaving itself in their place.

 _Is he dead?_

Juliette shuts her eyes, closing herself off from the image of a speeding runway. Her hands clasp tighter together as she bites her lip.

 _Don't cry, he's alive._ _He's going to be okay when you get there, in fact, he'll be perfectly fine. He escaped. Nick will probably be flying back in a plane by the time she touches down in Europe._

 _She knows she's lying to herself._

 _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._

 _It doesn't help._

 _The tears fall anyway._

* * *

Nick is in the chair again, strapped down.

He blinks. _There isn't any change when his eyes are closed or open._

He can't see anything. His feet, the chair, his hands, _the pain still makes him want to scream._

It's too dark.

It's too silent.

 _It feels like nothing._

* * *

 _Nick thinks someone is screaming. It's a horrifying sound, something that chills him to his bones. He wants to run away from it, but it's right next to him, no, wait–_

He's the one screaming.

His throat feels raw as he swallows, tears escaping his eyes and streaming down his face.

 _Please let him go. He just wants to see Juliette again. He wants to see Hank, Monroe, Rosalee, and hell, even the Captain would be a nice addition._

 _He just wants to go back home._

 _Please._

* * *

It feels like there are hands brushing against his face, _hands made of shadows, hands with fingers that claw bloody wounds into his cheeks, dancing around him like a lover's caress._

He shudders, shutting his eyes as if he could shut them out.

They whisper, _Endezeichen Grimm, stop whimpering, stop crying, you're a weapon, you're better than this, just give in, let them use you for what you were_ _ **born**_ _for._

 _It would be so_ _ **easy**_ _._

 _Not yet_ , Nick thinks, and he lets out a sob of relief when the shadows retreat with an angry hiss.

 _Not yet, not yet, not yet,_ and that thought is the only thing that's saving him.

 _And the only thing that keeps him in the chair, too._

 _It's easier said than done,_ they sneer, and finally disappear, crawling behind him, crawling back to wherever they hide. _In his mind._

 _Even though the voices are gone, the darkness swallows him whole._

* * *

Juliette lies on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes trace the small grooves in the white surface. They form an intricate pattern of flowers, all carefully twirling and twisting decorations she could never create herself.

 _Normally, she might be a bit interested, but now she doesn't care._

Juliette turns to her side, staring at nothing and crossing her arms over her stomach.

The words she had spoken at the front desk still make her choke.

 _Hi, yes, could we get,_ she had looked behind her, and standing there was Monroe and Rosalee, _a double, please?_

 _And,_ there was Hank, _a single._

She had turned back one more time, ready to smile at Nick and request a double until–

 _A single for me, as well. Thank you._

She swallows, closing her eyes. Tears slip out.

 _And Juliette is alone._

* * *

The light flashes on with a quick _click_.

Nick blinks, shaking his head, disoriented.

Someone opens the metal cuffs and drags him up by the wrists. _Too fast. It hurts. Ow._

It seems Nick's pupils are still adjusting to the sudden brightness because he can't see clearly who it is.

The only thing he can think of is, _what's going on? Why is the light–?_

He feels something injected into the side of his neck and he collapses onto the ground.

 _Everything goes black._

* * *

Nick tries to breathe through the agony. _In, out. In, out._

His greasy, black, unwashed hair glints in the harsh light and beads of sweat slowly trail their way down the back of his neck.

Eric stands in the corner of the room with his arms crossed. His expression is an awful mix of a hardened smirk and eyes that glint with hidden cruelty.

 _Nick hates it, but he'd better get used to it, because that's all he'll be seeing for, well, forever._

 _Probably._

He lets out a cry of pain as the whip cracks down onto his back. _He's been hearing that sound for hours._

His arms are stretched out to the sides, tied down to the floor with chains, and he's on his knees, head hanging.

Nick can feel the blood from his back pooling on the floor, soaking into the cloth of his pants.

 _He doesn't know which one is going to make him throw up first. The blood or the pain._

Eric holds up a hand, and the weapon that has been digging horrible wounds into his flesh for the hours finally stops. _Oh, thank– well, not God. Definitely not God._

The Prince walks over to where Nick is on the ground, who is taking in heaving breaths that make him wince each time.

Eric crouches in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder with a mock comforting smile.

 _It smears the blood splattered on his skin._

"I don't suppose you've taken my offer into account, have you, hmm?"

When Nick doesn't respond, fingers dig into his flesh, demanding an answer.

 _They are a monster's fingers, with claws as sharp as a sword, a monster with a silver tongue._

Nick clenches his jaw and looks up at Eric, grey-blue eyes splintered like glass.

 _They are_ _ **filled**_ _with a hate that he isn't used to feeling._

 _And when that makes the Prince grin, something inside him writhes with fury._

"Never." He hisses, teeth bared, even as he is kneeling below Eric. Flecks of blood on his face stand out, and the shadows under his eyes deepen, making him look different. Scarier.

 _It makes him look like a Grimm._

The muscles in his arms tense and his fingers are clenched into fists. A sudden _creak_ of metal makes the Prince's head whip to the side, warily eyeing the restraints that hold Nick in place.

Eric frowns. "Hmm. It seems your strength is increasing." He sighs. "Well, I shall see you in the morning, then."

He strolls out, and the man, a hulking mass of muscle that holds the whip, follows.

The light shuts off.

 _Nick is on his knees for the night, and the floor is painted red with his blood._


	5. Chapter 5

Juliette sits in a cafe with the rest of the group, hands clasped around a warm mug of tea, index finger restlessly tapping against the side of it.

 _It doesn't have a beat. She just needs to do_ _ **something**_ _._

Hank, Monroe, and Rosalee make quiet conversation about how they're going to get Nick back, glancing at her worriedly from time to time.

 _She stares off into space, seeing nothing._

A hand comes to rest lightly on her arm and she jumps, looking up.

It's Rosalee, watching her with a concerned yet gentle smile. "Hey, you okay?"

She nods, painting a smile on her face. _It doesn't dry. It drips off, leaving behind an agonized grimace that she hates. But it's the only thing she can feel._

Rosalee is obviously unconvinced, but leans back in her chair once again and looks around at everyone else.

"Okay, so what's our plan?"

There's silence, with eyebrows raised and glares pointed and silent conversations like, _I thought_ _ **you**_ _had a plan! No, I didn't, that's why I was waiting for you to say something! Well, I don't have one!_

Juliette interrupts, swallowing down her emotions. _She thinks if she breaks the dam a flood will come pouring out. And she'll never be able to stop it._

"So, none of us have a plan?"

Monroe bites his lip, apologetic, while Hank lifts a shoulder, looking away, guilty.

Rosalee covers her eyes with a hand like she doesn't want to see anything anymore.

 _Juliette stares, empty, back into her now-cold cup of tea._

 _Not as cold as it makes her feel when she thinks of what the Royals are doing to Nick._

* * *

Sean Renard paces in his office. _Back and forth. Back and forth._

The rest of the precinct watches him anxiously. _Is he mad? Is there something horrific that has been leaked to the public? What's wrong? Are we in trouble?_

 _Little do they know, it has nothing to do with them._

He recalls the conversation he had earlier today with Eric. It runs through his mind on repeat, occupying any room he has to think.

 _Hello, dear Sean. I don't suppose you've seen the attempt on my life?_

Eric's voice sounds sing-songy with a touch of fury that even Sean doesn't want to get near.

 _ **Yes, I have. So awful to see it happen.**_

 _Really? Then_ _I don't suppose you knew who did it?_

 _ **I can't help you with that, I'm afraid.**_

Sean takes away the phone from his ear, thumb hovering over the _end call_ button.

 _What a pity. But before you hang up, wouldn't you like to know what's happening to your little Grimm?_

He nearly crushes the phone in his grip, then raises it slowly back up.

 _ **What?**_ He growls, hiding his desperation for answers behind untamed rage. _He needs to know._

 _Oh, so you_ _ **do**_ _care?_ Sean can hear Eric smile. _Hmm. Well, let's just say he's a bit…tied up, right now. Au revoir, dear brother._

Sean tries not to throw the phone to the floor.

It shatters anyway.

* * *

Nick sits next to the wall with labored breathing, one leg stretched out and the other bent.

They had allowed him to put bandages on, as well as a shirt, but it's not enough.

 _He presses his hand against his back and it comes away sticky red._

 _At least the blood is hidden by the color of the shirt. Black._

Nick squeezes his eyes shut, leaning against the wall and groaning. Every time the gauze rubs against the open wounds gouged into his back, it's like searing fire, tearing its way into his flesh.

 _Just breathe through the pain. That's all you need to do._

 _The claw-wound in his neck is still healing. It's definitely going to scar._

 _The slices through his hands are no better._

His eyes peep open slightly when the door creaks behind him. Nick turns his head to look.

Eric walks in, all bravado and charm, along with the same man who–

 _Who tore Nick's back into pieces._

Their eyes meet, and Nick feels his blood boil. Suddenly, his wounds don't matter, Eric doesn't matter, nothing matters except for the fact that he's getting up to his feet and all he wants to do–

 _All he wants to do is to make that man pay for what he did. Nick wants to break the man's neck underneath his hands and watch the light_ _ **die**_ _from those beady little eyes–_

Eric holds up his hands. "Ah, ah, ah, _Grimm_. Don't do anything you'll regret."

Nick's fingers tense where his hand rests against the wall and the metal creaks into claw-like dents. _Nick loves it when the man shifts back in fear._

Still, he grits his teeth as he hesitates. _The Prince is always one step ahead._

Nick asks anyway, snarling. "Or what? You'll kill me? I thought you wanted me _alive_."

Eric beams. "Oh, you're learning! Well, you are correct. I don't want you dead. It would be quite a waste after everything I've done, hmm? No, you're not dying." He licks his lips, turning to the mass of muscle standing in the shadows. "Kevin, hold her up."

Kevin steps forward, carrying something bridal-style. No, not _something_. It's a body.

A girl, about seventeen. Her head hangs, unconscious, as a trail of blood dries on the corner of her slightly open mouth.

Eric sighs, turning back to where Nick stands with his hands in his pockets.

"She was working with the resistance. Such a shame. Killed a Hundjäger with just a pocketknife. I could've used someone with her skills. Since I know you love protecting such 'innocent' people," He tilts his head. "If you try and kill anyone without my permission…"

Eric slips a gun out of his pocket and examines it, then looks up at Nick with a calm expression.

"Don't you think the room will look just lovely with her brains decorating the walls?"

Nick swallows, stumbling back into the wall and sliding down into a sitting position.

 _What Nick just did makes him wants to clutch his back in agony and scream, but all he can feel is ice-cold fear._

Eric smiles softly. _Not soft enough to be kind, though._ _His eyes are filled with malice._

"Then I see we're on understanding terms. Kevin, leave her here."

She's left lying on the floor, breathing quietly. _He's surprised they didn't just drop her._

The door shuts again with a groan, and they are the only ones there.

 _Nick is left watching her until he cannot see a thing._

 _Whether it's from the light going off or going to sleep, he's not sure._

 _He hopes it is death._


	6. Chapter 6

Nick wakes, and the light is on. _That's strange._

It's a harsh glow, one that makes him squint while creating a headache that will probably progress into a migraine. _That's not strange._

He's still leaning against the wall, head tilted down while sweat beads on his neck.

 _He needs a shower. The thought makes him want to laugh. Laugh till he cries, laugh till he can't laugh anymore, laugh till he dies. Please._

His hands, _still sliced open from the magic knives, how fun,_ rest on his knees, which are bent in front of him.

The girl lies unconscious, legs sprawled out, about five feet away and on the opposite side of the room.

Nick blinks blearily, shaking his head and looking up suddenly. _Right. There's another victim of the prince in the room._

 _How could he forget?_

She's wearing nothing out of the ordinary, just jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers.

 _Nick could guess that Eric was lying about the whole 'with the resistance' thing, but then again, the prince wouldn't torture without reason._

 _It's not that Eric cares. It just takes up too much time. Unnecessary._

Nick sighs, the circles under his eyes heavy. Sleep drags him under every hour or so, of course, but even then, that's not enough. _Perhaps he just wants too much sleep. Perhaps death is the only thing that would satisfy._

He swallows, fingers curling into fists. _Don't think like that, stay positive._

Another part of him snickers cruelly. _Positive? You think that'll help? Pathetic!_

Suddenly, the door slams open with a vicious kick, and Nick flinches as the handle goes flying into the wall, creating a dent that complements his own.

 _It's a wonder the girl doesn't even stir. She must be out cold._

 _It makes him shudder to think why._

Eric walks briskly in, wearing a wicked smirk that chills even the bravest of Wesen. Or his enemies. Kevin follows thereafter, always the silent shadow.

 _A shadow Nick wants to burn away. One that Nick wants to torture until they are both covered with blood._

"Hello, my dear Grimm! How are you? Do you like your new roommate? Not that talkative, I would guess. Are you _bored_? Need a little pain to liven you up?" The prince says cheerfully, leaning over Nick with a grin.

Nick says nothing, choosing instead to glare.

Eric sighs. "It seems you've chosen to be as quiet as her. What a pity. But that's not what I'm here for."

Nick tenses up at those words, waiting for a blow, a stab wound, more pain, _something._

Instead, Eric draws out a gun. _No, no, no, no, no, she's gonna die, and Nick can't do anything about it, no, no, no, no, no–_

Eric, seeing the distraught expression on Nick's face, rolls his eyes. "Oh, don't worry, I won't _kill_ her."

Nick exhales in relief. Eric, excitement and evil sparkling in his eyes, twirls the gun around in his hands with a flourish. And Nick knows something is very, very wrong.

"You are."

* * *

"No."

Nick doesn't even hesitate. _No. Definitely not. Absolutely not. I will never. Ever._

Eric frowns, waving the gun, _please put it down, he doesn't want to see that ever again, even if he's a detective,_ in front of his face. "Are you _sure_? It could boost you ahead in your training, you know. Wouldn't you want that?"

 _Of course, it would do that. He would have just killed an innocent girl. Nothing like that to break him._

The voice in him snarls again, _but she isn't so innocent, is she? She's working for the resistance, she killed that hundjäger, she's working against the Royals, against your_ _ **prince**_ –

 _Shut up,_ the rest of Nick growls, and it does.

He sneers. "I'm not going to kill an innocent girl."

Eric raises an eyebrow at that, like, _are you sure she's so innocent,_ as if he's heard the debate inside Nick's head.

But the prince sighs, getting up from his crouch and placing the gun back into his pocket.

"If that's going to be your choice. Kevin, come here."

Kevin walks forward silently, hands clasped in front of him and head facing the ground in respect. _As if anyone should show Eric respect._

"Now, get out the thing I handed you earlier. Yes, that thing."

Nick can't see what's going on. Eric's back is facing him, blocking the view of whatever thing was handed to Kevin. The bodyguard, or _whatever he is_ , trudges over to the girl and bends down low, hands delicately holding something over her neck.

 _Oh, no._

Eric steps back, beaming as if he's just accomplished something great.

 _Oh, no._

Above the girl, Kevin holds–

 _Nick wants to cry._

Kevin holds a needle. Inside, there is a thin, light green liquid.

The prince smiles triumphantly, chin up with pride and hands held at his back. He turns to Nick, who sits on the floor with a pale face and wide eyes. Eric ignores it.

"Are you familiar with the story of Socrates?" Nick is frozen in fear, and Eric chooses to answer anyway. "Hemlock tea, if I remember correctly. What were the symptoms? Oh, yes. I did memorize this for _you,_ you know. It's best you pay attention."

Nick does. _He doesn't want to hear this at all. He doesn't want to hear how the girl will die._

"Let's see. Hmm. Burning of the digestive tract, drowsiness, muscle pain, rapid swelling and stiffening of muscles, kidney damage, rapid breakdown of muscle tissue, loss of speech, paralysis, unconsciousness, heart, lung, and kidney failure, and...one more thing. Death."

Nick looks up wearily. "Please don't…please don't kill her, please," He whispers brokenly.

 _For all the good it does him._

Eric smiles sympathetically. _And for once, it doesn't seem fake._ "Too late."

The prince spins around and nods.

The needle goes plunging into the girl's neck.

And as the poison goes shooting into her bloodstream, Nick drops his head to his chest in defeat.

 _It is the first time he breaks._


End file.
